


Mirror in the Sky (What is Love?)

by Ahigheroctave



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahigheroctave/pseuds/Ahigheroctave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's twelve people who love her for exactly who she is, and one who doesn't. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror in the Sky (What is Love?)

**Author's Note:**

> For Gleeverse's Big Bang challenge.

They have too much insecurity for one relationship. Within the first week of dating, they must use sentences like “Does this make me look fat?” or “I feel like it’s too tight” about a thousand times. They’re like a symbiotic eating disorder that she thought she’d already gotten over.  
  
Except she doesn’t think skipping lunch because he splurged and had a pack of Doritos is crazy, and he doesn’t think anything of her spending too much time in the bathroom before weigh-ins. They start staying late at the gym. It starts with Sam’s “Just five more reps” while she spots him on the weights and ends with her doing crunches until she collapses on the mats in the girl’s locker room.  
  
Coach Sylvester stops Quinn in the hallway and hands her a new eating plan, one that she’s surprised to learn indulges her in chocolate and hamburgers (it’s a little suspicious, but she figures the school can’t afford another lawsuit). So she starts doing more, she does Heated Yoga and then Pilates on the weekends. When she’s still gaining, she talks her mother into buying a treadmill to “loose the baby weight”, even though that was all sucked up by the end of July.  
  
:…:  
  
She’s good at hiding it, until a Tuesday in November. They’re at Glee rehearsal and Mr. Schuester surprises them by revealing Shelby as their new choreographer. He gushes about how Rachel was right that he couldn’t dance well enough to teach them and that if they had a shot at winning Nationals… Everyone applauds but them. She and Puck try not to look at each other, but she can feel him balling his fists from the other side of the room.  
  
She doesn’t know if it’s the nerves or the fact that she hadn’t factored in this kind of intense dancing, or the Indian Summer that Ohio is going through, that makes everyone agree that global warming is real. Maybe, just maybe it’s that she can’t think of anything but _‘Beth, I hear you calling…’_ She doesn’t know, but she slips on something and she can’t get up. She tries using her arms but they collapse under her and her head feels like its burning.  
  
Sam stands as far away from her as possible, as if someone will find out his secret by association. She has the urge to tell, to yell that he’s been hiding laxatives in his sock drawer, to announce that he uses lemon juice in his hair, but her mouth is too dry and she can’t make the words.  
  
Still, even though she’s focusing on her anger at the blonde for deserting her, she can feel someone else lift her up. They’re warm, so warm, and it’s unbearably hot with the way her face already is. She tries to look, but her skull feels too heavy for her neck to support. So she gives up in the middle of raising it, burying her head into the person’s shoulder. The last thing she remembers, before everything becomes unbearably black, is the familiar scent of dip and chlorine.  
  
:…:  
  
“Quinn, wake up, Quinn,” Someone is shaking her and she tries to open her eyes. A bright, blinding light burns them and she shuts them immediately.  
  
“Mommy?” She asks faintly, but her throat feels like it’s on fire.  
  
“Sssh,” The voice answers calmly, stroking back her hair. And she knows it isn’t her mother, that it’s more likely her mother is at a bar somewhere trying to forget this happened already. “I can sing if you want.” Of course it’s Rachel, because the universe has some kind of sick sense of humor like that. “I’ve got the perfect song picked out. Well, Mercedes already used Beautiful,” Mercedes! Where is she? “But I think this one is even better. Mind you, it’s got some romantic undertones, but if you’ll just-”  
  
“Shut up,” She manages to cough out.  
  
“Sorry,” Rachel blushes, folding her hands in her lap. “I was just really worried about you, we all were. And practicing gave me somewhere to put my anxiety…” She looks down at the floor. “Finn said…he said you wouldn’t like it. I should have listened.”  
  
She nods and taps her hand as briefly as possible to let her know it’s okay, she knows from prior experience that Rachel can make almost anything into an attempted hug.  
  
“The doctors said it might be hard to talk for a while. They said that…” She looks away now, and Quinn feels almost ashamed at the glossy look her eyes are getting. Watching Rachel cry isn’t as fulfilling as it once was, not at all anymore. “The acid from your stomach…when you…when you…”  
  
“Puked,” She croaks, and she feels hot droplets on her own cheeks. “When I puked.”  
  
“Yeah…they said it did some damage to your throat…and it’ll be hard to talk.” She watches at the tiny brunette puts a small notebook and a mechanical pencil in front of her, timidly. It’s funny the way she’s acting like she might force her out at any minute, even though she’s in a bed with about a thousand tubes in her chest.  
  
She takes the paper and writes one word at the top, _Okay_.  
  
:…:  
  
She surprised when Kurt comes in without Mercedes, to say the least. She’s surprised when he sits down without saying anything and turns the TV on to America’s Next Top Model. It’s one of those MTV marathon things, like the Degrassi ones she used to watch with Frannie. She watches as Tyra tells girl after girl that they’re beautiful, but not beautiful enough to win. The episode finishes and another one starts and then another, and before long it’s a different season on the screen. They’re playing dead now, and Quinn thinks Kurt must have watched this before. This must be the point, to torture her. To show her the future that she has if she keeps not eating, and doing her crunches in her room late at night.  
  
She turns on her side and tries to keep her eyes closed as her favorite, a hard-cooked golden blond girl named Renee, takes her turn at it.  
  
She can’t see, but she can still hear. And all of them are praising, kind about how good she looks dead on a dressing-table. It makes her want to be sick, but she’s too tangled up in the tubes to ever be able to reach the bathroom without a nurse tackling her. It makes her want to cry, but she’s too dehydrated. So instead she just hyperventilates, gasps for air.  
  
She feels a hand rubbing her back, and humming a little. She wants to sob all over again when she recognizes the tune.  
  
 _Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,_  
Never let it fade away!  
  
Her dad used to sing it when she was sick, when she was little enough to fall asleep on him at baseball games and not makes mistakes big enough to be disowned. She rolls over and pulls her notebook close to her. _Please stop,_ she scribbles frantically in messy, blotchy letters.  
  
He takes the paper from her and starts writing. She tries to look and he pulls it away. So she’s forced to wait, to wonder what in the world could be so important that she can’t see it. Being patient was never her strong suit. After about five minutes he thrusts it at her, and sits with his arms crossed. She’s almost afraid to read it, but she’s more afraid of what he’ll do to her if she doesn’t.  
  
 _You’re too smart to be this stupid. Maybe Finn fell for that because he wanted to, and maybe Puck just never could get you to listen, but you’re not going to get away with it with me. We love you too much for me too just sit here and let you kill yourself. You’re going to a rehabilitation center in Chicago until Christmas. Your mom didn’t want to send you, but Carole basically told her she’d report her to child services if you didn’t. You’re going to learn how to eat, you’re going to write us letters, and when you get counseling, you’re actually going to be honest with your therapist. If you aren’t, I’ll find out and I’ll come and make you be honest._  
  
Everyone else here might want you back so badly they’ll be willing to overlook some indescrepancies, but not me. I’m going to be on your ass every second of everyday, making sure you’re okay. And not just in the physical sense. You will not die on me, Fabray, you don’t get to. Do you understand that?  
  
It turns out she’s not to dehydrated to cry. The IV fluids must be kicking in, because she collapses into big baby sobs and pulls her knees to her chest. She doesn’t want to get better, but she doesn’t want to do things that hurt people like this anymore either. She did it enough last year, she doesn’t think she has the strength to rebuild her life like that again. Maybe dying would be easier.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
He puts his hand on her knee and looks her straight in the eye, “You don’t get to say that either.”  
  
:…:  
  
It’s after visiting hours and she’s sitting awake in bed, writing a letter to Mr. Schuester in her notebook when she sees something move in her doorway. At first she thinks it’s Nurse Jackie who comes in every few hours to check her vitals, but then she sees a Mohawk-ridden head pop in the door.  
  
He would come at night.  
  
Except he doesn’t come in, just stands there and stares at her. She tries to pretend she doesn’t see him, to continue with her letter. Except she just writes, _Puck, Puck, Puck_ on the paper. So she just put it down and stares at him, she can’t decide if he’s hurt or disappointed or maybe a little both. It turns out she’ll never know because he simply takes one long look and then disappears into the hallway.  
  
She picks up her notebook again only to hear the door creak open.  
  
She looks up to see Finn standing there, hands in his pockets. She can’t tell if he looks more awkward than usual or if she’s just forgotten how tall he was the past few weeks. Being in love with him seems like a distant memory, but somehow it still makes it hard for him to be in this room at all, let alone this time of night. “Puck chickened out,” He offers quietly.  
  
She nods, and points to the piece of paper and then her throat. “Oh right, Rachel told me all the vomiting made it hard for you to talk.” She should find this insulting, but it’s actually a relief that someone isn’t tip-toeing around it. That someone has the courage to say it out loud without her having to first, or without having to write it on a paper. “I don’t know why you did this to yourself.”  
  
She doesn’t know what to say. If he were Puck, or even Sam, she might tell him the truth. She might tell him that it’s because of her superiority complex, because of the Cheerios, because of Beth, because of him and Puck and her parents and not being able to eat bacon. She can’t though, because it’s Finn. And he might be an idiot who thinks Drizzle is a Grade A baby name, or that controllist is a word, but he also took care of her for four months when all she did was consistently lie to him and degrade him while every one of their friends watched.  
  
She opens up to a fresh sheet of paper. _Where’s Mercedes?_ This is one question no-one will answer for her, but she knows Finn is too afraid of her not to.  
  
He looks at it for a minute and then at her. “She doesn’t want to see you until you get better, she said you’re being a hypocrite and a liar and she doesn’t want to see you again until you go back to being the Quinn you were last year. And even Kurt, he’s really mad,” She realizes that, she also knows some of the things Kurt’s angry at her for aren’t even about her. It doesn’t make it hurt less. “He still keeps telling her to come see you though. He says if you die she’ll regret punishing you instead of being your best friend.” _If you die_ , he says it so simply like it’s a good possibility. Is that why everyone is being so different? Do they really think she’s going to let herself die?  
  
She can’t let herself think about this, she can’t. So she asks another hard question, “Sam?” She whispers.  
  
Finn doesn’t answer her right way, at least not the answer she wants, “Oh, he’s good. He’s talking about trying out for the basketball team, which is good because Puck isn’t playing. He also kind of stopped showing up to football practice, and then he egged the Cheerios last week but Coach Sylvester couldn’t prove it was him, and that got her really pissed. So Sam’s kind of taken over his spot on the team, and hopefully he can do it in basketball too. And he had this solo in Glee last week…”  
  
Finn rambles on about how he owned John Mayer and Quinn takes her pencil out again, _Why isn’t he here?_  
  
Finn stops mid-sentence and stares at the floor. “I don’t think he’s coming.”  
  
She thinks she knows that already. She thinks she knows that he isn’t strong enough to come, that if he sees all the tubes and needles and wires in her chest he’ll have to eat carbs again and stop saying things like “Just another pound and then I’ll stop” into his bedroom mirror. She wonders if the situation was reversed…she’d like to think she’d come. She’d like to think she hasn’t lost all of that Quinn, the one from last year, who wants to be a better person.  
  
Finn stays a little longer, he brought her his Nintendo DS. He spends a while showing her how to play it, and he’s a little hesitant to leave it with her in the end, but she repeatedly reassures him that she won’t leave it unattended in the mall food court, or try to play it while she takes a bath, or try and put one of the really old Gameboy Color cartridges in the Advance slot because it might look like they fit but they really don’t. She smiles and laughs for what feels like the first time in weeks, and she really wishes he wouldn’t go.  
  
He promises he and Rachel will come back tomorrow though, and she understands that he means they can’t go back to the way things were last year.  
  
:…:  
  
She gets moved into the special home for girls with eating disorders the next Monday. It’s actually called Hope Springs Rehabilitation Center, but that makes it sound like she’s a drug addict or an alcoholic. She doesn’t even think she’s as bad as the other girls. One of the girl’s, her best friend died from puking too much. Her throat couldn’t take the pressure and it snapped.  
  
They all have horror stories, especially the counselors. One of them tells them about a girl who cut a door open in her stomach so she could throw up without being noisy. Another one shows them pictures of these girls who ate so little, their skin became like paper and their bones are so brittle, they break like glass. She doesn’t believe the first story, but she hears some of the girls in the program whispering in admiration under the pretense they’re playing Monopoly. Quinn thinks if she didn’t get cut open to have Beth, she isn’t going to cut herself open to take anything else out either. It’s not the first time she considers she might be the abnormal case here.  
  
:…:  
  
She starts gets good at being a pen-pal. Rachel is better at it, she sends her a letter (sealed with a gold star) everyday. Mostly she writes about people stealing her solos and slushie facials and how much they miss her and the latest things Finn’s done. Artie sends her comic books and his mom bakes her cookies, Forgotten Kisses. Finn sends her his Gamepro subscription after he’s done with it, and Kurt sends her catalog after catalog with clothes she’ll only look good in “ _if you grow your boobs back_ ” or so he writes in the margins.  
  
She notices Mercedes silence, and she ends up writing her twice as many letters as anyone else. She tells her she loves her and that she’s sorry and that she understands she doesn’t want to speak to her but she’s never needed a best friend so badly. She never gets an answer.  
  
She writes to Sam and Puck too. She writes to Sam in the superficial way, she tells him she misses him and his bad dye job. She asks him what they’re singing in Glee. She tells him about the other girls and how nice they are. She never mentions where she is or how much they force them to eat at lunch. Or that she never actually talks to any of the other girls, except a quiet Dominican one who kind of reminds her of Santana and scares everyone else.  
  
To Puck, she writes things she couldn’t say to anyone else. She tells him how angry she is. She tells him how much he sucks and how much she wishes she’d never fooled around with him last year. She asks him about Shelby and Beth. She tells him what a bitch her mom is, and his mom is, and everyone is. She tells him she misses them all so much, too much. That it’s suffocating how quiet it is there and how she almost wishes she could hear Rachel’s singing just so she’d know she could still feel anything but defeated, almost.  
  
She doesn’t send any of these letters, instead she throws them into the trash can in her room.  
  
:…:  
  
“What was your daughter’s name?” Everyday they ask her about the baby. They use words like your daughter and your family referring to her and Puck. They don’t seem to realize Quinn’s memories are more of a bump in her belly than the actual baby. That the only memory she has of them as a family, is the one where she sat in front of the nursery window and told him she didn’t want to keep her. And then he admitted he was in love with her.  
  
She keeps telling them about the adoption, but for every other fact that keep meticulously organized on that chart, they have trouble remembering what she’s told them about Shelby.  
  
“Puck named her Beth. Or Shelby did. I didn’t want to name her.” _Beth, I hear you calling, but I can’t come home right now._  
  
“You didn’t think about it?” She shakes her head. “There wasn’t even a second, where you thought about keeping her, with Puck or Finn, and you wanted to name her for yourself?” She shakes her head again. “I find that hard to believe, Quinn.” They use your name a lot, like it’s supposed to make you feel special or original, when really it’s always at the tip-top of your chart right in front of them.  
  
“I came up with the best baby name of all time,” A sick smiles flickers across her face as the counselor leans in and waits. “Drizzle!”  
  
“Drizzle?” He asks, clearly taken aback. He looks at the chart in front of him, wondering if maybe he should write it down.  
  
“Yeah,” She grins, and she has to fight the urge to laugh. “Yeah, you know how awesome it is when it’s just drizzling outside, but it’s not really raining. So it smells like rain, but you don’t need an umbrella to go outside.  
  
The therapist looks at her like she’s insane. She feels relaxed for what might be the first time in her life.


End file.
